


Mornings

by charcoalmink



Category: Batman (Comics)
Genre: Breakfast, Food, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-22
Updated: 2012-02-22
Packaged: 2017-10-31 14:33:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,218
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/345136
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/charcoalmink/pseuds/charcoalmink
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bed and breakfast in all the senses.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mornings

“ _Jason._ ”

It wasn’t quite the Batman voice, but it was close. And it sent a surge of arousal shooting down his spine, making his shoulders tense.

“You don’t feel like sharing?” It was rare to hear Bruce tease, when he wasn’t being _Bruce_ , the airheaded playboy. It was strange and exhilarating and altogether disconcerting. But not-- not in a _bad_ way.

Deft, calloused fingers tugged playfully at the drawstring of his sweatpants, a tease and a promise all at once. Warmth spanned across Jason’s back as Bruce pressed against him, making his hips dig into the edge of the counter.

“You don’t like blueberry.” Mentally, he cursed himself for the obvious strain in his voice. Jason forced himself to breathe calmly, slowly.

“I don’t recall ever implying that I did,” Bruce murmured, nosing at the soft hairs at the back of the other’s neck. He snuck two fingers beneath the waistband, touching wiry, dark curls. His other hand lifted to cover Jason’s knuckles. The fork in the younger man’s hand twitched.

“Are you going to finish your breakfast?” Bruce tugged on the hand, lifting the fork and guiding it up. A long, viscous string of maple syrup dripped off the slice of pancake, falling onto the counter and Jason’s chin. Bruce leaned harder against the rigid back, feeling Jason go very, very still. He smiled, pressing the utensil up against the man’s lower lip. After a beat, the lips parted, and Bruce carefully guided the treat in. Jason’s lips closed almost tentatively around the metal tines, and Bruce exhaled sharply, rocking his hips up.

“Good, isn’t it?” Bruce pulled the fork out and nudged the redhead's face closer. He dipped his head, lapping at the drop of sugar that glistened on Jason’s jaw. He made a noise of appreciation at the feeling of rough stubble against his lips.

“Alfred--”

“Isn’t in here right now. And the others are still sleeping.” Thrusting again, Bruce watched Jason’s eyelids lower and his breathing grow deeper.

“We’re just two men sharing a nice breakfast together. Enjoying each other’s company.” The man’s breath tickled Jason’s ear, and he couldn’t help but think that _that_ had sounded like something Bruce-the-socialite might say; but the undercurrent of something... inherently _Bat-like_ kept Jason from dwelling on it too much. Perhaps another time, when he wasn’t pinned in the kitchen and force-fed.

Something warm and sticky pushed at Jason’s mouth then, seeking entry. The younger man accepted it more readily this time, tongue curling around Bruce’s fingers. They were messy, tacky with syrup as they swiped over Jason’s lips and pressed down on the soft center of his tongue.

Jason breathed heavily through his nose, closing his teeth around the fingers. Behind him, Bruce groaned, and the hand that had previously been teasing, slid fully beneath the sweats. He flattened his hand, curving his palm over the younger man’s hip, stroking the swell of bone.

“Still hungry, Jason?” Bruce’s voice sounded _thick_ (--was that a waver he heard?) when Jason began to suck in earnest, scraping his teeth on Bruce’s knuckles. The redhead’s cheeks hollowed, a low humming sound rumbling in his chest. Bruce growled, pressing his forehead to Jason’s shoulder and pushing the other forward. Fortunately, the pants served as a thin buffer between Jason’s hips and the sharp edge of the counter-- though he wouldn’t have been opposed to the pain.

“Yes-- _Jason_ \--” The man growled, thrusting his fingers in deep. His other hand, nails digging into flesh, slid abruptly up and then back down, leaving five red stripes down Jason’s chest.

Plunging beneath the waistband and wrapping his fingers around Jason’s cock, Bruce _felt_ the vibration of the redhead’s groan. Jason’s hips bucked back, and Bruce ground against him, panting breathlessly.

Bruce set a punishing rhythm, too impatient and restless to bother with finesse. He thumbed the wet tip, slowly dragging his thumbnail over the head. Jason shuddered and groaned around the obstruction in his mouth, still sucking and biting, a trickle of saliva sliding from the corner of his lips.

“Bruce--” The name was muffled and distorted around the fingers, but the older man reacted all the same, bucking forward and breath shuddering against the redhead’s throat. His movements were rough-- which was just how Jason liked it, pushing desperately into the huge hand engulfing him, milking him. He pulsed in Bruce’s grip, too far gone in his pleasure to do more than lap sloppily at the man’s fingertips, occasionally tasting something sweet and sugary.

Bruce turned his face inward, biting at the join of shoulder and neck, leaving a neat row of crescent-shaped indents in the scarred flesh. Jason surged up at the sudden flash of pain, hands groping wildly back to grasp the older man by the hips.

“C’mon, c’mon, Bruce-- _Batman_ ,” Jason growled, always relentless, always brash, always-- _magnetic_. Bruce groaned brokenly, panting into Jason’s shoulder. His breathing was erratic, nearly in tandem with the other’s own frantic gasps.

Jason licked his hips, hips snapping forward desperately as the he felt the pressure in his groin mount. Just a little _more_ , that was all he needed, just--

“Oh _fuck_ \--” He bit the inside of his cheek violently, cutting off the cry that burned the back of his throat.

Bruce’s hand slid from Jason’s lips, leaving a wet trail down his chin and the center of his chest. Slick-- _slick_ fingers curled beneath him, cupping his balls and squeezing once, thumb stroking the soft skin. The younger man thrust forward, a low moan stuttering in his throat as he went rigid, spilling over Bruce’s fingers and into his pants. He continued to tremble as Bruce’s hips slowed, gently rocking him forward against the counter, before stopping altogether.

“Jesus,” Jason breathed, his chest heaving and his fingers finally uncurling themselves from Bruce’s hips. There was a moment of absolute stillness, until the arms around him suddenly _gripped_ him, turning him and slamming him back against the cabinets. Jason’s eyes widened as he found himself bent backwards, the edge of the counter unforgiving against the bare small of his back.

“We’re not _done_ , Jason,” Bruce growled.

And that-- that was _definitely_ the Batman voice.

**\---**             

Rubbing at his eyes, Damian descended the stairs slowly, mind still vaguely hazy from sleep. It was still early in the morning, but he prided himself in his ability to keep a tight routine with military efficiency. And right now, his body called for nourishment.

Reaching the bottom, he turned towards the corridor that led to the kitchen, when the butler rounded the corner, emerging from seemingly nowhere. Damian’s eyes narrowed as the man moved closer, holding a tray containing a single glass of orange juice and a plate with a neat, short stack of pancakes.

“Good morning, Master Damian.”

“Pennyworth.” His brow furrowed suspiciously as Alfred neared.

“If I may kindly suggest that you take your breakfast in the parlor this morning? It seems that the kitchen is otherwise occupied at the moment.”

Damian’s eyes slitted, but Alfred’s face revealed nothing. His lips twisted, and he was tempted to demand _why_ , but something in the way that the butler pointedly stood in front of him kept him from speaking the word. Instead, he scowled fiercely and turned on his heel, down the opposite way he’d intended to go.


End file.
